*See end for Author's Note
The breath she'd been unintentionally holding rushed out on a mirthless laugh, her mind fully alert now. "Seriously?"
"Those three words, and you can have it." There was an impatient edge to his tone.
She settled back on her hands, relaxing. "You want three words? How about these?" She gave a little jerk of her head. "Get over here."
He pressed his lips together, the top one twitching in what might have been the beginning of a sneer. "You win, Doctor."
She dropped her voice. "Get. Over. Here."
He defiantly took a step back. "You win –"
"Get over here now."
They both fell silent, staring each other down. Locked in a stalemate once more.
Clara finally broke the silence, raising a meaningful eyebrow at him. "I'm not the only one that wants this."
He'd clamped his mouth shut again, nostrils flaring with each inhalation. But his eyes gave him away, raking over her body.
"Admit it." Clara dipped a hand down, giving herself a light stroke. "You want this, too – you want it as much as I do."
Gaze riveted to her hand, he seemed to waver, taking a minuscule step forward.
"So just – get over here."
Another step, like some unseen force was guiding him forward, her own personal field of gravity pulling him in. Then – something jolted him out of whatever momentary reverie he'd been in. "No."
Shock was quickly replaced by ire. "Get over here."
"No."
"Do as you're told."
"No!" he barked.
Angry tears welled up at yet another of his hairpin-like turn of moods, but she swallowed them down. "Doctor, I swear –"
"Swear what?" He slid his hands into his pockets, the gesture deceptively casual. "What are you going to do, hm?" He took another step back, shaking his head. "What, exactly, do you think you can do to me?"
She glared at him.
He smirked. "I tried to warn you not to challenge me to a game. I did everything to help you avoid the situation you've gotten yourself into now. I told you: I don't play games."
The wheels in her head churned furiously, but to no avail. The steam it created only clouded things further, the haze thickening until everything was tainted red with her fury.
She gave him a smile that bared all her teeth. "Oh, no. No, no, no. You can't fool me. You want this."
He strode over to her again, coming close enough for the sleeve of his jacket to brush against her calf. "You want it more."
The words hit her heart like icicles: cold, hard, and sharp enough to draw blood. But letting him see that was out of the question, so she forced her mouth shut and envisioned spiked armour encasing her heart, the burnished steel fail-proof protection against brittle bits of frozen water. The shards of ice shattered on impact, leaving her unharmed and resolutely in control.
It also helped her recall her earlier solution when he had so firmly turned the tables on her that there didn't seem to be any possible way out.
But there was always a way out.
One path remained. One way to end it for good.
Clara tugged her skirt down, closing her legs primly. "Fine." She jumped down off the step, nearly landing on his feet and propelling him backwards. Lacing her words with as much steely contempt as she could, she leaned in close enough to kiss him. "You win, Doctor."
Then she took two steps back and swiped her knickers from the floor, slipping them on underneath her skirt.
"Clara –"
"What?" she whirled on him, furious tears in her eyes. "That's what you wanted, isn't it? That's all you wanted all along."
He looked utterly perplexed, trying and failing to form words several times.
She bit her lip, taking a shaky breath. "The Big, Bad Time Lord outwits the Stupid, Little Human in the end, playing on all her silly, predictable human emotions to get what he wants – and all is right with the Universe."
The Doctor was quickly spiraling towards crestfallen. "Clara. Clara!" He even reached for her.
"What?" she cried. "What do you want? What more could you possibly want from me?"
His hands hovered over her shoulders like he didn't quite know what to do with them. "It was just a game." His light tone was too strained to sound convincing, doubt underlying every word. "We were just playing the game."
"Exactly," she whispered. "It was just a game to you."
"Clara!" He looked completely out of his depth, hands finally settling on her shoulders, his touch unsure. "It was just a game to me, but if it means you're…" It seemed highly probable his brain had stuttered to a stop, given his usual reaction to her emotions. "It was a game, so it means nothing to me. But if it makes it better, if it means you…we can say that you win." His hands dropped. "You win."
"I win?" she asked, her voice small.
The Doctor stepped back, making a sweeping gesture that was somehow both all-encompassing and conciliatory. "You win."
She nodded thoughtfully like she was considering this, sniffling. "Okay." Then the contours of her face changed completely as she broke into a grin. "Well, that was easy."
He blinked at her. "Easy? What was easy?"
She giggled, folding her arms and shaking her head at him. "Honestly, if I'd known you'd let me have it that easily, I would've tried that tactic a long time ago. Could've saved both of us all that effort."
The Doctor went completely still. "You weren't really upset."
"'Course I wasn't. I was faking it."
"Faking it."
"Yeah. Bit extreme, I admit – playing up the scorned would-be-lover and all that, pretending that it really meant something to me." She let out another titter, unable to hide her giddy triumph.
Something was building behind his eyes, but he remained silent.
His silence unnerved her, and she cleared her throat to fill it. "But you gave that to me a while ago – 'five-foot-one and crying: you never stood a chance.' Remember?"
His expression was stony. "Be careful with that, Clara."
"Careful with what?"
"How you use me."
Her gloating instantly evaporated. "I wasn't…I wasn't using you."
"Weren't you?"
"No." The sweet taste of victory was turning sour in her mouth. "No, it was just the game. We were just playing the game."
"The game." He nodded. "And what would you have done if I had 'come over there?'" He asked, leveling her with his gaze.
Her mouth went dry at the thought, but she shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "I would've won."
"Really?" He took a step towards her. "But wouldn't you have been giving in? Wouldn't you have lost the game?"
"No," she insisted, lifting her chin. "Both of us would've been giving in."
He took another step towards her, his gaze still holding her captive. "And what would've happened then?"
The lie came out on a burst of air. "Nothing." She fought the urge to fiddle with her hands, letting them flex and ball into fists at her sides. "We would've stopped playing. Game would've been over."
His approach was starting to feel more like a stalk again, his gait reminding her of a tightly coiled spring. "But you said you weren't using me."
The wretched word hooked into her like a barb each time he used it. She shook her head vehemently. "I wasn't. I wasn't using you."
"So which is it?" he asked her fiercely. "Either you were playing the game and, by extension, playing me – or you weren't. Because it's what you actually want."
Heart hammering in her chest, she had to swallow, the flow of oxygen suddenly too thin. Her mouth hung open, but the words stuck in her throat.
"Let's try this again." His final step brought him close enough that she had to fight not to take a step back. "Were you playing me? Were you using me?"
She could only shake her head.
"If you weren't using me, then this is what you want. So…tell me." He leaned in towards her. "Tell me this is what you want," he murmured, the sudden softness of his tone far more compelling than any shouted demand.
Clara blinked at him, wide-eyed, her body stirring at the nearness of him, the warmth radiating from his skin…
It would've been easy, so very easy to give in then – to take advantage of this choice he was offering her.
And yet…she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd be letting him win. Either admit that she had been playing him all along, that she actually was an egomaniac needy gameplayer – or own up to her feelings for him.
Own up to the possibility that she hadn't really been "playing" the scorned would-be-lover.
But saying those words? Giving voice to them?
She shook her head. "No," she whispered.
The Doctor let out a long sigh of – relief, exasperation, defeat? Bowing his head, he ran his hand over his mouth, nodding a few times. "Good." And with that – he turned on his heel and shuffled towards the corridor, his feet barely leaving the floor.
As she watched his retreating back, Danny's accusation from earlier that evening echoed inside her head.
I don't think YOU even know when you're telling the truth and lying half the time.
How quickly the evening had devolved: from painful truths they fired at each other to truths cloaked in lies, or lies masquerading as truths. To claims of fantasies neither had probably ever entertained; to dares and acts neither would ever follow through on; to fake-outs and one-upmanship. Even the Doctor's last demand of her, as if that were what he really wanted.
No…as if she were what he really wanted.
The Doctor had once claimed that they were too alike to be together, despite her protests to the contrary. Too alike to do anything but destroy each other.
Based on this evening…he'd been right, too.
But as the Doctor rounded the corridor, about to disappear from sight, Clara found herself calling out to him.
"Wait."
He turned, his face impassive. "Yes?"
She was not an egomaniac needy gameplayer. And she couldn't have changed so much that she was only capable of leaving a path of lies and destruction in her wake now.
She would prove Danny wrong.
She would prove the Doctor wrong.
She ran at first, slowing as she neared him, her mantra playing on an endless, frenzied loop.
Justtellhimjusttellhimjusttellhimjusttellhim…
But every word fled her mind as she looked into his face, noting the exhaustion that had settled into his features.
Maybe he'd grown weary of trying to parse it all out, too.
He eyed her curiously, almost apprehensively. "Clara?"
On impulse, she grabbed his hand, fingers closing tightly around his palm with purpose. Turning, she began to walk down the corridor, towing him behind her, leading them to her darkened bedroom.
She could tell the truth, dammit.
She would just do it on her own terms.
*Author's Note: I just wanted to inform y'all of two things for the next and final chapter: 1) the rating will change; 2) it will be written in a way that conforms to canon. Thus, in my mind, these events COULD have taken place anytime before "Dark Water" - though most likely after "In the Forest of the Night" (just might've been a bit too much for the kiddies who watch the show, y'know ;)) Again, a huge thank you to all who review, favorite and follow! :)